


Last Pale Light

by Sour_Girl



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Protective Arthur, but it's time for some sweet sweet chubby/buff arthur, on second thought it is an option in game tho so can you really be mad?, ooooo you guys are either going to love me or hate me for this next one, you ever just want to flex on rockstar and give the main character a happy ending?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-24 19:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16646099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Girl/pseuds/Sour_Girl
Summary: After being chased from Blackwater, The Dutch Van Der Linde gang has settled more or less comfortably at Horseshoe Overlook for the time being. Some, more then others.When Arthur Morgan, one of Dutch's right hand men, goes out for a covert supply run, things go wrong in a hurry when he comes to the rescue of you, a battered young woman desperately fleeing your family ties. Presented with the choice of shipping you back, or taking you in, he seems eager to settle on the former.Despite the severity of your situation, will you be able to convince the gruff outlaw to let you in? Or will your family secrets catch up, dragging Arthur and Dutch's gang to hell with you...





	1. Chapter 1

_It’s been a long time since we’ve all seen the west. Ever since that trouble in Blackwater, we’ve been stranded out here in the east, but it ain’t all bad I guess… On the bright side, there ain’t nearly as many gangs to fight for territory with, and the ones that are around don’t bother us too bad. A couple of Pinkerton’s, but we’re safe._

_Well… Some more then others._

~~~

It was as quiet a day as any as Arthur Morgan plodded his way through the bustling camp, on his way to set out again. Someone yelled something at someone else, a horse whinnied and stomped in response, and a final third person made sure to bark orders at Arthur’s back. 

“Make sure you bring back some food, the rest of us need to eat too, ya know!”

Arthur wasn't really sure who it was that was antagonizing him, seemed like it was the whole damn camp as of late. Sure, he’d gotten a litte… _comfortable_ with the new life Horseshoe Ridge provided, but the piece everyone seemed to be forgetting was that _he_ did most of the work around there anyway. Most of the hunting, looting, and robbing was thanks to him, usually both in coordinating _and_ participating. Only made sense he got a fair share.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was slipping because of it. Kinda the opposite, it seemed. The only person whose opinion mattered was Dutch’s, but he didn’t take food out of Pearson or Bill’s mouths, and besides, Arthur had proved himself a happy medium of the two heavy set men. Maybe he couldn’t run and climb like he use to, but he sure as hell could take and give some heavy blows, even the occasional extra bullet, he’d noticed, making him the perfect muscle to take along for shootouts and indoor robberies. The rest noticed too and, rightfully so, let him be.

That is, until Mary-Beth described him one night as a “Cuddly Mix” between Pearson’s flab and Williamson’s hulking bulk. She was more than a little drunk, hell they all were that night, but the whisky couldn't erase the unintentionally embarrassing description from everyone’s memory. From the moment the uproarious, mocking laughter ignited, Arthur knew he wouldn't live it down. 

It was hardly a day later when the teasing started up. A jab or comment here and there from John, or Javier, or Lennie, or Sean, one after the other slowly adding themselves to the group of antagonizers after letting the others test Arthur’s waters of patience. But it didn’t bother him much. He knew just about the whole lot of them were a pack of damn fools, and his skin was thick enough to not pay them any mind.

Arthur mumbled something over his shoulder, just to confirm that he’d heard the request, and then mounted up. His horse brayed and stamped a little, fussing as he hauled himself into the saddle. He sighed, in a bit of a joking mood, “Not you too”. Arthur patted the animals neck and spurred it onwards, heading towards town. 

The pair had just turned onto the main road of Valentine when Arthur’s relatively peaceful day turned upside down. 

An ear splitting scream pierced the morning dew like a shot, as a young woman barreled up the street. She screamed over her shoulder, “ _Stay away from me!_ ” You faced forward again, and sprinted for dear life. Arthur, and indeed the whole town, seemed dazed for a moment as the bizarre scene transpired. It wasn’t until your pursuer came onto the scene that Arthur snapped back to reality.

A large, densely built man had caught up to the girl almost as soon as the town caught sight of him. He jumped her from behind, hulking frame crushing her into the mud as he subdued her. The woman began shrieking bloody murder, kicking and crying futaly as the hulking man easily lifter her from the ground and wrenched her arm behind her back. Arthur wasn’t sure what was going on, but he had certainly seen enough. He spurred his horse down the rest of the street, closing the distance, before dismounting with authority right beside the muddied couple.

“Please Mister, _please_ help me! He’s a brute, I-I can’t go back… _Please!_ ”, you thrashed and screamed, speech barely comprehensible through the layers of terror it carried.

The man hissed something in your ear, threatening you to silence, as Arthur approached, “I _think_ she wants to be let go”.

“Look here Mister, sh-she ain’t well, if ya take my meanin’.”, the man touched the side of his head, “I was’a just takin’ her back home when she went and ran off. Ain’t that _right._ ”, he subtly but noticeably forced your arm back a little more, as it made a popping sound, causing you to scream and writhe in even greater agony.

“I ain’t gonna ask you again… Let. Her. _Go._ ”, Arthur reached over and grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt, the steam of his hot breath puffing in the cold morning air like smoke. A few yards away, the Sheriff stood on his porch, watching the situation play out as his favorite bounty hunter handled it.

The man jerked out of Arthur’s grasp, awkwardly yanking you with him, “ _Mind yer own damn business_ ”, he hissed. The man turned his head over his shoulder franticly, and noticed the Sheriff was now advancing, causing the man to panic. “Just leave us _be!_ ” He first threw you to the ground and then a punishing blow at Arthur’s jaw. The punch connected squarely, jerking Arthur’s head to the side, dislodging his hat. The Sheriff took the opportunity to rush in and help you up and away from the scene while your attacker squared up for a fight.

Arthur cradled his jaw, the pain dulled by adrenaline. He spat some blood into the dirt and smiled. Last fight he had here wasn’t nearly as fun as this one was going to be…

The huge other man lunged like a bear, using quite the same tactic he’s employed before to subdue you, gaining the uphand and raining down punches as he sat atop the cowboy. _Not this again._ Arthur shielded his face as best he could, turning in time with the blows as he waited for an opening to counter. It wasn’t long before the man’s fists slowed as Arthur blocked nearly every one. Partially out of breath, he paused for just a moment, foolishly taking time in the there and then to reconsider his tactics.

Thankfully, _”just a moment”,_ was all Arthur needed.

He pulled himself into a partial sit up, and grappled onto the strangers torso before wrenching him to the side, rolling him over and trading positions. Arthur went straight for the temples, wearing the other man out with punches as solid as he could muster. Unfortunately, the glory was short lived. The man had quickly had enough, rocked up and then back again, using his legs to flip the other over and off his hulking form. The two scrambled to get up, as Arthur coughed sharply, the wind knocked out of him. 

The other man huffed, breathing hard, as he wiped a small stream of his own blood from his eye. He roared and closed the distance with his fighting partner, throwing heavy, wild punches, most of them missing, but some others giving Arthur a couple cuts of his own. But he was getting slow… 

“What’s the matter feller?”, Arthur fended off a punch, switching to the offensive and battering his opponent with quick light punches as the man curled up, shielding himself. “Gettin’ _tired?_ ” Arthur finally broke the chain with one crushing blow to the jaw, opening the other man’s defense right up. He leaped at the advantage, striking hard. 

_Right, left, right, right, uppercut._

The other man responded with a weak, miscalculated shot that merely glanced off of Arthur shoulder. The man spat out a clot of blood, swaying like a stiff wind could finish him off. Arthur cocked his fist, winding up as far back as he could, before unleashing a bone shattering cross hook, sending his opponent spiraling into the mud. 

The crowd screamed and cheered at the display of unwanton violence, as Arthur’s world view widened to see the small gathering that had amassed to watch the brawl. He lowered his head, picked up his hat and cradled his fist, before shoving his way through the thin ring of humans, on his way to the Sheriff's office. _So much for keeping a low profile._

Arthur threw the door open with force. _Where was that damn woman?_ He was owed one hell of an explanation after making such a spectacle of himself. _Again._

As he entered the room, he saw you shaking and sniffling as a man he didn’t recognized tended to your wounds. He immediately identified himself as an animal doctor from down the road, and his story was corroborated by the Sheriff who stated that he was “the best they had ‘round here”. Your arm seemed to be back in it’s socket, but you were badly bruised and in the process of being bandaged in a few places.

After the exchange with the Vet and Sheriff, you looked up, recognizing Arthur as the one who saved you. You jumped up, interrupting the Vet’s work and threw your arms around grizzly looking cowboy, muttering your thanks over and over like a mantra between sobs into his broad, grimy chest.

Arthur wanted so much to be mad at the squaking mess clinging to him…

He and the gang had been on thin ice as of late between a string of recent heists and a pathetic little man who claimed to have recognized him from Blackwater, which meant that drawing any unnecessary attention to themselves was completely out of the question. Yet here he was, slathered in mud and blood after yet another bare knuckle brawl on the main road of Valentine.

But as you stood there, shaking like a leaf and paying your thanks with tears, you seemed so… _small._ Not at all the type of woman who belonged near the ape he’d just laid out in the street. In a way, he sympathized for you, after all it wasn’t _so_ long ago that he, Dutch, and Micah had rescued Ms. Adler from a quite similar state. 

_Well…_ , Arthur thought, _If I ain’t just a big, damn hero._

Arthur let out a strangled sigh, not used to this type of contact as you refused to let go, allowing yourself to be soothed by the rhythm of his breathing and hammering heartbeat. “Yer alright Miss…”, Arthur wrapped one arm around your waist, patting your back awkwardly with the other. 

After a while he decided he’d had enough and tried to let you go, but you pulled back whispering franticly into his ear as tears threatened at the corners of your eyes again, “Please, _please_ don’t make me go back… _I can’t-_ I...”.

“Woah now Miss, this nice gentleman appreciates the thanks, but you really need to rest. Besides, I’m sure he has other business to attend to…”, the Sheriff pulled you off of Arthur gently, trying to guide you back to the Vet and his bandages. The Sheriff thanked Arthur and assured him that he and the Deputy would take care of the rest.

“No! Please, No! I-I have nowhere to go!”, you started back again, frantic as ever. You turned your gaze from the Sheriff, to the Vet, and finally laid your gaze on Arthur. “ _Please,_ I’ll do anything... _Anything._ ” 

The Vet and Sheriff tried to talk you down, reasoning that you must have _some_ half decent family somewhere… but your gaze remained fixed on Arthur Morgan, waiting to hear _his_ decision.

Arthur stared at you thoughtfully. There was something about the panic and desperation in you that remind him of himself and a few others from Dutch’s little band of misfits. On the run and no one to turn to except the other side of the law, but… Bringing in new members wasn’t his call. Sadie was one thing, but Dutch had been there and they really had no choice but to take her along. Besides, he knew next to nothing about you. What if all the big fella’s bluster about you being not right was true? But on the other hand… 

“Tell ya what Miss, how about I’ll take you down to Saint Denis and we can have a little talk and then get ya a boat, or a train, or _something_ and send you on yer way”

“Well I’ll be damned.”, the Vet said, “Yer a real generous sort, ain’t ya Mister?”

“Somethin’ like that”, Arthur muttered. He offered you his filthy paw, retraced it quickly to wipe the dirt and blood off on his pants, and then held it out again. You looked at him crestfallen, but took it, knowing it was better than nothing. He half turned to leave, but stopped. “Er, what does she owe you for them bandages…”, the words left Arthur’s mouth painfully, as he nodded to the Vet.

He barked out a laugh and then spoke, “Watchin’ you beat the shit outta that fool was near payment enough, but I’ll tell ya what, promise you’ll take good care of that purty little lady all the way to Saint Denis and we’ll call it even.”

“That’s a deal feller”, Arthur smiled and touched the brim of his hat as he walked you out. You followed solemnly, allowing yourself to be loaded aboard the burly man’s horse with no word nor fuss. The animal snorted and shook its mane as Arthur mounted up, before ushering the beast on with a few clicks of his tongue.

The two of you had made a good way into the country when Arthur finally broke the silence, “Arthur”

“What?”

“It just occurred to me that we ain’t been introduced. Name’s Arthur. You?”

You told him and then asked a question of your own. “So, Arthur… _What?_ ”, you prodded.

“Nope, can’t tell ya that one”, he laughed smuggly. You were about to interject with a comment when he cut you off, “You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on here?”

You wrenched around to face his back, grabbing onto his sides for support, causing him to flinch a little as your fingers gently brushed his ribs. “Look, I know you don’t know me, I know I have no right to ask much of anything of you, especially with all you’ve already done, but please… I _can’t_ go back.”, you leaned in, raking your nails along his ribs, looking for purchase as you tried to emphasise your words.

Arthur grunted, or maybe cleared his throat, rolling his powerful shoulders and scrapping your hands off his sides. “So you’ve said, but I’m askin’ you _why_ ”

You settled for his suspenders as you tried to get close again and make yourself heard, “I-I can’t tell you about it, or at least _not yet!_ You just have to trust me...”

“That so?”, Arthur laughed. You opened your mouth to defend your reasons, but were cut off yet again. “ _Yah!_ ”, Arthur exclaimed and snapped his horses reins, sending it into a full gallop as you both sped towards the big city.


	2. Chapter 2

_Who would’ve thought. Barely an hour into my day and another crazy person comes to me begin’ for help. Guess I can't blame her though, considering. Besides, it’s always nice pummeling some bastard when they deserve it. But… I really shouldn’t have. Not with all the shit going on lately._

_I suppose it was worth it in a way. This poor girl looks like she’s been through hell…_

~~~

As Arthur pressed his horse faster towards your impending damnation, you pleaded him to at least hear you out. He asked again for your whole story, but you just _couldn’t._ Your problems were your own, and even worse, they might put this kind, handsome stranger in the line of some serious fire. After you refused again, Arthur ignored your pleading again and focussed on the road.

You weighed your options in your mind. Whatever you did, you knew going back to that hell hole estate of your family’s was out of the question. You peered over the side of the horse to the ground below. Maybe you could just jump off and go it your own? 

The horse bellowed and Arthur swore, as the animal jolted and you struggled to rebalance yourself. You looked back in the receding distance at the smashed body of a small animal, freshly trampled, and decided to remain seated while the horse was in motion.

Morning soon turned to noon, and noon to evening as Arthur reigned his horse into a small field to rest. He offered you a hand getting down, and then followed suit. Arthur directed you to take a seat in a small clearing as he set up a fire to cook some rations with. He checked his satchel for some meat, came away frustrated, and soon after, from his saddle bags with the same result. “ _Dammit_ ”, The entire purpose of his trip out now glaring at him.

“Wait here, I’ll find us some food”. You looked up at the man with concern at being left alone. He sighed and fiddled with one of his holsters, “Here, take this“, he threw you a beat up little revolver, “If ya see any trouble just fire that up in the air and I'll come as fast as I can. Just uh remember, pull that little trigger there and hold it with _both_ hands.“

You knew your way around a pistol, but opted instead to nod politely as he fired off the most basic of user tips before mounting up and trotting over the hill, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

He was a nice enough man, but this wasn’t going anywhere. If he brought you back home, all that would accomplish was a round two with that maniac, Ollie. If the Valentine Doctor, who had been so kind as to skip right over you and go straight to the unconscious man, hadn’t gotten him on his feet by now, he would soon and an affair as outrageous as this would’ve been more than enough to send that pig squealing back home. You touched your cheek subconsciously, _Lord knows he’d made bigger deals over less._

You looked out to the horizon, pondering escape once more. The sun was well on its way to setting, casting a pale amber glow over the valley. In the distance some gunshots rang out, followed by the screams and calls of several different birds and beasts. A shudder ran down your spine as the warm vista suddenly left you feeling very, very cold. More yipping and then a snorting sound came from over your shoulder, and you turned in the low light looking for that Arthur whats-his-name. 

Staring back at you from atop the grassy knoll stood a pair of hungry wolves. 

You shrieked from the surprise, and fumbled for the poorly kept revolver. The sleek monsters growled, and barked savagely. You fired one shot, then another hoping to scare them off, but only succeeded in wasting precious shots. The thunder of hoof beats grew louder in the distance as a voice screamed your name. You backed up from the steadily approaching animals, aiming your pistol with a shaking hand. A shot from elsewhere rang out with far more authority than the rusted revolver could ever hope to produce, shooting one wolf dead. In a mix of anger and surprise, the other pounced on you as Arthur cursed vehemently. But before the predator could reach your throat, you fired four shots of your own, emptying the barrel. 

The wolf crashed into the ground, mid leap. You dropped the empty revolver, and fell to your knees, drained from the sudden and intense adrenaline rush. Arthur jumped down from his horse, rushing over to meet you on the ground. 

“Holy hell… You alright?” You took some calming breaths, but nodded that you were. Arthur gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze and then went to examine the dead wolf you had shot. Your accuracy was on point, but precision was lacking as the skull was littered with holes.

“Well, ya ain’t no marksman, but lucky for you, ya ain’t a bad shot either”, Arthur made sure to politely position himself between you and the corpse as he pulled out his skinning knife. He didn’t turn his back, but he continued to address you, “You know, it’s not every day ya meet a woman that can handle a weapon...”

“I learned to shoot on my family ranch.”

“That so? What kinda ranch?”, Arthur finished up and dragged the carcass out of sight before storing the meat for later.

“Cattle. Nothing too fancy.”, you were lying, but he didn’t need to know that. 

Arthur retrieved the game meat he’d shot from earlier and began setting up at the campfire to cook, “Oh I doubt that Miss. See, you talk real nice, like one a’ them ‘educated’ folks. Kinda makes me think Daddy runs a half decent operation out wherever you're from. So what’s the _truth_ here?”

Damn, he was good. 

The “truth” was, that your family ran a successful cattle ranch in the midwest by day, and every now and then rustled cattle to boost the herd by night. If word got out, half your family would be sent for a dance with the gallows, and anyone left standing would be financially and socially ruined. That’s why when the county Sheriff finally got ahold of some dirt on one of Wyoming’s biggest ranching families, they paid for his silence by offering _you_ to his worthless brute of a son, Ollie, as well as all the perks of marrying into your family.

That’s why you knew a thing or two about shooting, your father had tried to get you in on the darker side of the family trade. That’s why you were so educated, turns out, crime _does_ pay. Most importantly, that’s why you couldn’t go back. If you did, you’d immediately be forced into a loveless marriage, and all to cover up the scandal of the decade.

With all that in mind, as great as he’d been, you weren’t sure you could trust the big, sweet stranger, let alone put any more of a target on his back. On the one hand, you didn’t want him to rat out your family for an undoubtedly massive cash reward, but at the same time you didn’t want to make his life any worse then you already had by dragging him even further into this great big family mess.

“It’s like I said, it’s a cattle ranch. I grew up shooting varmints and the occasional coyote, and sure we’re successful enough, but it’s not anything worth bragging over”, you hoped the lie was enough to sate his curiosity as he handed you some cooked meat on an old, but clean knife. You accepted the food rigidly, as he pulled out a smaller, spare knife to cook some food for himself. 

“Don’t you have any… _dishes?_ ”

Arthur turned to see your sour face, before cracking a smile. “Oh a _thousand_ pardons Princess. Seems I left my fine china back in my summer villa.” You weren’t sure why this was all so funny to him, but Arthur seemed to find himself hilarious as he laughed with a somehow endearing harsh, wheezing laughter at his dripping sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes in a “sorry I asked” way, but smiled in spite of yourself at his contagious laughter as you decided to give the food a try. The meat tasted just fine despite the odd way it was served. You ate slowly and found yourself feeling satisfyingly full once you’d finished. In contrast, the burly cowboy was cooking himself another slice after having ravenously scarfed down the first one.

You laid down in the dirt with half a mind for a little revenge at the slight hazing you’d just received. “ _Hungry?_ ”, you teased.

“Good Lord…”, Arthur huffed, “Now don’t _you_ start too”, he finished his meal while pointedly ignoring your light laughter. Once he was done, the big man stretched his powerful body before rising. Arthur retrieved his sleeping bag from his saddle, unrolled it, and then dropped it on the ground directly beside you. “Here, you’ll like this better.”

“Well wait, what about you?”

Arthur wandered a gentlemanly distance away from a single woman to the other side of the campfire, and all but flopped down into the dust. “Ah, don’t you worry ‘bout me. Heh, besides, you need that nice warm blanket more than I do.”, he rested his head on one arm, and gave his belly a gentle slap with the other, barking out a short chuckle at his self deprecating humor.

“Alright, well thanks then...”, you slid into the pleasantly musky smelling bag. Not that you snuck a sniff or anything. “...Goodnight.”

Arthur cleared his throat then pawed at his face, awkwardly turning away. “Uh yeah, you too…”

You smiled, happy to find the gruff man had _some_ manners, and drifted off to a comfortable sleep.

\---

The two of you were up early the next morning, and started off with a bite to eat before putting out the fire and heading out again. Unfortunately for you, the events of last night had caused you to completely forget to campaign your companion to _not_ return you home. Though at this rate, you wondered if you even _could_ tell him. 

Maybe you could just lie about where exactly “home” was, and start a new life wherever you ended up going… You subconsciously shook your head. Who were you kidding? Arthur was right, you had been pretty sheltered so far. All you had really been taught to do was read, write, and take care of cows and tired men.

And with that, an idea formed in your mind. That was entirely true, you _did_ know how to care for men. Well, a potential partner really, but still. 

What if… What if you could convince _this_ man that you could do just that for _him._ He must have a home _somewhere,_ and you didn’t see any wedding band on his hand. You’d probably sound crazy, but if you could convince him to bring you on as his little personal care taker, that would solve just about all your problems. A place to stay that wasn’t with Ollie, nor your family, and someone competent enough to care for you in return… _What more could you ask for?_

Besides, and this was _definitely_ crazy, there was something about this grizzly bear of a man that just… _drew you in._ Oh he acted all tough and prickly, but in the mere two days you’d known him, he’d been sweeter and more of gentleman to you then Ollie could’ve _ever_ hoped to be. Just that one simple courtesy, the way he treated you like a proper lady, and not some cheap whore or shiny trinket to do with or show off however he pleased made all the difference. That and, there was this… _loneliness_ beneath the gruff, “rootin’-shootin’ cowboy” exterior that made him just like a of romantic figure straight out of those silly novels you denied having read.

Well it sounded to you like you’d made up your mind, but the hard part was yet to come…

\---

Arthur hitched his horse by the Saint Denis train yard, dismounted and then helped you down. He took a few steps to lead the way, stopped, and then looked around almost self consciously. You caught up to him, wondering what was wrong, but he said nothing, only offering his thick, muscular arm. You took it, and he walked beside you as was befitting a gentleman and young lady in such a cosmopolitan city. 

“Why Mr. Arthur, you surprise me more and more.”

He scoffed, “Well don’t read too much into it, just tryin’ to keep _your highness_ over here from whining about ‘what’s proper’.” 

Clearly you were being mocked, but you found it hard to stay mad. 

The two of you walked around to the front of the ticket office. Arthur stopped a few feet from the door, “So, where to?“ He stuck a hand in his satchel, getting ready to dig out some money for you. 

“Arthur, I already told you, I can't go…“

He made a grand, exasperated gesture. Before he could say anything, you interjected. If you were going to make your case, it was now or never. 

“Mister, if I go home all I'm returning to is more of what you saved me from. _Beatings_ and such…“, you paused, but Arthur seemed willing to hear you out, so you continued concocting your excuse. Now for one of the most loaded questions you ever asked in your life. “Wh-why don't I just stay with you?“, you practically whispered, afraid to hear the response. 

Arthur sighed forcefully, not very taken with your request. “Miss, if it's bad men you're looking to escape, then believe me, you _do not_ want to hang around me“, he held both your shoulders gently, looking you dead in the eye. 

What did _that_ mean? Well that was a stupid question, what else _could_ it mean? It wasn't anything solid, but maybe… “Are you saying you're _mixed up_ in something? “, you gasped and made sure to attract just the right amount of attention, “Are you… an _outlaw?_ “

Arthur's face tightened to one of urgency, as he clamped a hand over your mouth and pulled you aside, the two of you speaking in whispers. “ _Will you pipe down?_ You can't just accuse people of somethin’ like that out in the open! What's the _matter with you?_ “

You removed his hand, grinning like the devil, “If you're so innocent, then why are you getting so upset Mr…? Oh that's right, you never did tell me your last name, any _particular_ reason why? Because I can think of a real nasty one…“

Arthur leaned in even closer, grim as death itself and voice barely a whisper, “Are you seriously tryin’ to _blackmail_ me? Cause last I checked, in case you forgot, you ain't got any proof.“

“So you _are_ mixed up in something! Come on, you've seen what I can do, I'm smart, pretty, good with a gun, just let me in on whatever you've got going and I-“

“Good with a gun… look here princess, you killed _one_ wolf with _four_ shots. You ain't impressing _no one_ “, he hissed. ”And even if I did want to bring you on, that ain't my call.“

You leaned in too, your faces just inches away, “Well then let me talk to whoever _makes_ the calls. You were right, my family does have money, but we've got something like a situation back home. Anyway, tthe point is this, you help me out and I'll help you all out. We've got plenty of money, so much you could move a whole town of people back across the ocean.“

Arthur's eyes went wide at your promises, but he reset his mask of gruffness quickly, “Alright, tell you what, we'll let Dutch sort this out… If what you're saying is true _and worth it too,_ then maybe…“

“Exude me, _Sir and Miss!_ The hotel is that’a ways“, a stranger rudely stated in passing. 

Arthur pulled back, only slightly less embarrassed then you, and yelled after him, “Hey now, it's not like that!“ 

The man had long since stopped listening. 

The big cowboy huffed and rubbed at his face, “Come on, let's go…“, he half led, half dragged you back to his horse. 

You pulled yourself alongside him, hanging onto his bicep, “You won't regret this, I _promise._ “

Arthur easily lifted you onto the back of his horse, and then joined you atop it. “Oh, I think I will. Listen, save it for Dutch would ya?“

You leaned into Arthur's back and sighed contentedly as his horse lurched forward, racing back out of town. For the first time in a long time, things were finally looking up.


	3. Chapter 3

_I can’t believe I’m doing this. Actually, now that I think about it, yes I can._

_Some doe eyed little lady bats her eyes, flutters her handkerchief, and asks real nice for a favor or two and what do I do? Run off to do her bidding with a “yes ma’am” and a big ol’ smile._

_Lord, if that ain’t the sad, sorry truth._

_I’ve told myself once, and I’ll say it again: Arthur Morgan, you’re a damn fool..._

~~~

You and Arthur trotted towards camp as evening fell after the long ride back. “ _Who’s that?_ ”, yelled a broad, muscular man.

“ _It’s Arthur,_ er plus one.”

“ _Ha!_ You been Arthur plus _a couple_ ever since we got here!”, the other man wheezed hard, howling with laughter at what he seemed to think was a creative insult.

“ _Not now, Bill_ ”, was all Arthur growled back, now that you two were nearly at the camp clearing.

Arthur hitched his horse, after both of you had dismounted, and then started walking through camp, beckoning for you to follow. Several gang members, some looking just as rough as you’d expected an outlaw to look, then some women, some older folks, some younger folks, but they were _all_ staring at you. But no one said a word.

This time he didn’t offer, but you attached yourself to Arthur’s arm, a little afraid of what you’d gotten yourself into, and he let you, but didn’t crook it for you like in Saint Denis.

“Hey Dutch! I got something for ya…”, Arthur called to a stately looking man, dressed mostly in black and with matching dark, sleek hair. 

The great Dutch Van Der Linde that you’d heard so little about put down a book that he had seemingly been reading to a young woman with red hair, and rose from a cozy looking tent in the beating heart of the camp, “ _Arthur!_ Who the hell is this?” He didn’t sound angry, per say, but his hand rested on the handle of his pistol in a way that told you this was a man who didn’t mess around taking foolish chances. 

Finally, now for part two of your grand plan…

You relinquished Arthur’s arm and stepped forward, “Well Mister, I-”

“ _A-hem_ ”, Arthur cleared his throat obnoxiously, before shooting you a warning look and stepping past you to Dutch. He leaned in close and whispered something fervently to the man in black, presumably the long and short of what you’d said in Saint Denis. 

Dutch’s eyebrows bounced up for just a second, about as intrigued as Arthur had been that morning. When they pulled apart, Dutch stroked his stylish facial hair in thought. “Well, where are my manners! Arthur, Miss, let’s have a little chat”, he motioned for Arthur to enter his tent and offered you a polite hand as you stepped inside. The red haired lady was gone, and you wondered when she had left.

Arthur squeezed onto a crate, leaving only Dutch’s bed available for sitting. Dutch motioned to the bed and invited you to make yourself comfortable, turning out to be quite the gentleman and not so much the dastardly gang leader you’d mistaken him for. “Give me just a few seconds”, he turned to Arthur as he began walking out, “and don’t _break_ anything.”

The cowboy rolled his eyes and huffed, as he lit up a cigarette.

“You know, I’ve heard some talk that those aren’t good for you.”

Arthur took a drag and then laughed, “ _Bullshit,_ I’ve been smokin’ fer years and I-”

“ _Arthur_ Morgan!”, Dutch slammed down a wooden chair that he’d been carrying after indeed returning just a few seconds later, “There is a _lady_ present.” You weren’t sure if he was angry over the smoking, swearing, or back talk, but you were glad to see Arthur practically spit out the cigarette in surprise.

Arthur made a gesture exhibiting agitation, “Well damn, maybe I should just _leave_ then.” He flicked his still lit cigarette onto the nice cowhide rug and ground it out with his boot. Dutch inhaled sharply, like he was gathering up wind to yell at the other man again, but closed his eyes briefly and let it go. He didn’t bother responding to Arthur, and turned instead to you.

“So, Arthur here tells me you have a little _business_ proposition. Would you care to give me the details?”, Dutch relaxed in the beat up chair and smiled warmly, giving you a confidence boost.

You sat up straight and started from the beginning. Dutch listened with deep seated interest, while Arthur only pretended to not care. You told him about your family’s ranching business, the professional grade rustling they did on the side, and made sure to convey just how wealthy they they’d become in the process. Then you went on about how one day they were finally caught, and all the repercussions it came with. Finally, you came to the sales pitch, “So what I’m saying is, help me help my family, and I’ll make sure you’re _properly_ rewarded. Land, Livestock, _money,_ anything you want...”

“Well now, that _is_ a very nice proposition, but… You did say, _Wyoming,_ correct? I don’t think we could go-”

“Oh of course not! I’m afraid you misunderstand. I don’t want you to go all the way out there, just round the bend really.” 

Dutch cocked his head, practically begging you to continue, “I’m listening…” 

“I need you to _take care_ of that Ollie Redfield. Now, you don’t have to _kill_ him, keep in mind, maybe just scare him off from trying to marry me. If the Sheriff’s son won’t take me, we can just buy his silence the old fashioned way. Or maybe come to a more… _permanent_ solution. Daddy was still deciding, last we spoke.”

You jumped at the sound of Arthur’s voice entering the conversation as you had nearly forgotten he was there, “ _Scare_ him? I already tore that bastard a new one, what else are we supposed to do if _not_ kill him? Besides, what makes you think he ain’t already ran back home?”

“Well, he might have, or he might stick around and either look for revenge or come for his ‘precious prize’”, you gestured to yourself. “As for convincing him to stay away… I don’t know, maybe just threaten him again if he doesn’t listen?”

Arthur snorted and crossed his arms, “Oh, sure! Why, I’ll just go down to Valentine _right now_ and get him to pinky promise that he’ll stop being such a meanie and everything will be all sunshine and rainbows again!”

You made a sour face, and prepared to tell him off, but were stopped by Dutch’s voice. “Now Arthur, that’s _enough_ ”, he then turned to you, “but he does have something of a point. If this Ollie’s really as thick headed as the two of you say, then the only way we’re to talk him out of anything, is to invoke a thread of life or death. And even then, get him real close to the _death_ part.”

“Well, I don’t want a trail of bodies, but… I _really_ don’t want to sacrifice half my family to the noose if Ollie squeals, so…”, you extended your hand to Dutch, “Deal?”

Dutch’s eyes sparkled, even in the near black of night as he gently clasped your hand and gave it a hearty shake, “Miss, you do indeed!” 

You relinquished one another, and then talked about the immediate next steps. You agreed to work on a letter home about your master plan and sorted out an exact sum with Dutch about what his “services” would cost. Once that was sorted, Dutch summoned someone by the name of Ms. Grimshaw, only to be left with no response as apparently most of the camp had turned in. 

“Arthur!”, the sleek man turned to the prickly one and addressed him like an old friend he hadn’t seen in a while, “Why don’t you take care of our new associate’s lodging tonight?”, Arthur was about to protest, but Dutch turned to you and pointed to a dark shape a few yards away, “Just head right on over there and make yourself at home Miss.”

You looked between the two, and thanked them uneasily in light of the tension you seemed to be causing. Once you were out of earshot, Dutch whirled on Arthur, grabbing him by the shirt collar and pulled him nearly nose to nose, spewing venom. 

“Now you listen here, son… This is one of, if not _the_ biggest breaks we’ve ever had. Maybe your tiny mind hasn’t heard of one of the biggest cattle men in the U.S. of A., but that girl’s daddy is him, and I swear on all that is holy, if you blow this for us, or scare that little _gold mine_ away…”, Dutch didn’t need to finish that sentence, his point coming across loud and clear.

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d received a scathing from Dutch but, as much as he hated to admit it, Dutch was in the right. Your father’s family could easily pay off the lofty price on Dutch’s head three times over _at least,_ and that was no brag. All they had to do was kill one sorry bastard and then hope your father loved his daughter enough to pay that kind of money. Seeing as how you had been nothing but a real sweetheart so far, Dutch felt pretty good about his chances. 

Besides, even if he didn’t, they kill one man and give everyone the chance to buy up some land wherever the hell they want and be set for life. Why, this was practically daylight robbery, except minus the law and shoot out. They would be the biggest fools known to man if they didn’t at least _try._

“Now you go take your big, dumb ass over there and make our little golden goose feel _welcome._ ”, Dutch made to shove Arthur in the direction you’d wandered, but was hardy able to move the solid man more then a step or two. Arthur whacked Dutch’s hand, freeing himself from his vice like grip, and made sure to sneer before walking away on his own terms.

“‘Big, dumb ass’. One of these days, I’m gonna…” 

“Arthur, is that yo- _Huh!_ ”, you hit the ground hard after running smack into the man and nearly getting trampled to boot.

The big cowboy was ripped from his fuming thoughts as soon as he hard the little thunk of your frame hitting the dirt. “ _Shit..._ ”, Arthur leaned down and picked you up placing you on your feet as easily as one might a child. He made a feeble attempt to dust off your shoulders, brushing as if you would break, and then cleared his throat, “Sorry about that, I uh, I didn’t see ya.”

You finished the job and brushed off your skirts, before laughing in your little, melodic way and accepting his apology. Arthur guided you through the camp, his muscle memory sharp, as he led you to his wagon, “What are you laughing at _now?_ ”

You cleared your throat, trying to stifle your snickering, “I was just thinking how much you remind me of Jamie from back home.”

“Oh? Is he ruggedly handsome, and incredibly intelligent too?”, Arthur struck a match and lit a small lantern on his side table. He sat you on his bed while he fished out a coat in preparation to ruff it on his own cow hide rug next to you. You snorted a laugh in a decidedly unlady like way, catching Arthur’s attention, before you quickly composed yourself.

“Oh no, you see, Jamie is a steer. The biggest Longhorn you’ve ever seen, in fact. I was just thinking how you’re both so strong and reckless”, you laughed quietly again, “Though I will say, _you_ are a whole lot nicer.”

“Well, I like the ‘big and strong’ part”, Arthur beat a separate piece of clothing into a makeshift pillow and blew out the lantern, before pulling his winter coat over himself as he went lay down, “Not so sure about the being compared to a cow part, though.”

“Aw, well why don’t you bring that wounded pride over here and I’ll kiss it better”, you laid down, trying your best not to go off laughing again.

“Hm, tempting but I’ll pass. Maybe next this time.”

You smiled at his optimism, and rolled over, ready to drift off.

“...Good night”, Arthur drawled in a slow, tired voice

You felt your face go hot, suddenly glad you couldn’t see one another. “Good night”, you whispered back.

\---

The next few days went by in a blur of action. 

You worked on the letter to your father, trying to find the words for what you were about to ask. Essentially, you needed a whole crate of cash and all so you could get out of this stupid arranged marriage. Would he even accept your proposition? Wouldn’t it just be easier to pay a dowry once and then wash his hands? Needless to say, the thoughts troubled you, and you briefly wondered again if you shouldn’t just run away from it all and try to make your own way. But… 

It was silly. Probably stupid too, but you had come to like life with Arthur. No, you _loved it._ And the gang too, of course. What was that saying, “Friends are the family you choose”? That sounded right, and even if it wasn’t, it sure _felt_ right. 

There were a few odd ones that you kept your distance from like Micah, Sean, and Uncle, but the rest of the lot seemed like decent folk. Arthur, Dutch, and Javier were good men, Charles and John seemed like big loners, but real “heart of gold” types nonetheless, Lenny and most of the girls were fun and lively, and Hosea was just about the sweetest old man you’d ever met.

Before, you had always thought of gangs as little more than a musty camp of brutes ready to cut each others throats over $5, but this… This was _so much more._ Dutch’s gang was more like a band of only _slightly_ dysfunctional brothers and sisters, which was better than most blood related families could say. Everyone watched one another's back and trusted each other with their lives, whether they admitted it or not. They drank, sang, danced, and played cards together just about every night, and sometimes you even got Arthur to do it all with you.

According to Dutch and Arthur, you practically _were_ one of them now. You helped around camp, accompanied some of them to town for things, and so forth, but you weren’t stupid. The real reason you were here and everyone was oh so nice was because with your goodwill came the cash haul of a lifetime. As long as nobody made you too pissed or ran you off, they’d all have the option to leave this life and be free wherever they wanted.

Despite all this, you almost didn’t care. Hanging around a gang of well behaved killers and thieves was easily made worth it by not only your quest for revenge for your family, but also by a certain lonely, scruffy cowboy. The camp matriarch, Ms. Grimshaw, had been kind enough to lend you little lean-to tent and a bed roll that you were given permission to set up next to Arthur's wagon. Well, she intended to let you set it up, but what really happened was Arthur _helped_ you set up.

Ever the moody crank, he made sure to make it seem like he was just sick of watching you struggle with something “as basic as pitching a tent” when he offered his help. Little did he know, you saw him practically come right over as soon as he saw you setting it up rather than hanging around, watching and shaking his head like he made it sound. He was a terrible liar, but you decided not to say anything and accept the help. Grateful, you prepared to sit back and watch the burly man work for you.

“Oh no you don’t princess, you're helpin’.”

You were about to protest, but Arthur kneeled behind you, took your soft hands in his great paws, and promised to guide you through the process. His misleadingly soft body stayed glued to your back for nearly the entire lesson, both keeping and making you warm, as you felt his robust muscles flex occasionally beneath all the bulk.

“Woah, now don’t lean too far there Arthur! You’re fixin’ to either shred those jeans or crush that girl”, John Marston yelled from across the camp, joining the few scattered chuckles his joke had earned him.

Arthur growled through clenched teeth, but otherwise ignored the commentary. He moved beside you, and nudged you out of the way, “Will you just let me do it”, he barked. You obeyed.

You sat a moment, but couldn’t bear the awkward silence, “Why do you let them talk to you like that if it agitates you so much?”

The cowboy huffed, most likely debating whether or not to even respond, but he gave in. “I dunno’. Maybe I don’t really care. Maybe I don’t want to look soft bitchin’ over some dumb ass jokes. Hell, maybe I think I _deserve it._ ”

“Deserve it? What do you mean?”

Arthur nodded towards a faded picture tacked to his wagon, as he finished up a few knots, “Ah, I dunno’. Ya see, I ain’t like Bill and Pearson, those two have been a pair of big bastards since the day I meet ‘em. I, on the other hand, wasn’t always like this”, he gestured vaguely to himself. 

“Oh? Well what do you _reckon_ happened?”, you tried to make the question light hearted by mimicking some of his more stereotypical southernisms. Dumb as it was, it must have worked, because Arthur cracked a hint of a smile as he dusted off his hands, done with the tent.

He sighed, then laughed, “I _reckon_ I’m gettin’ old. Been lettin’ myself go...”, he ran a coarse hand over the stubble covering his face and gave another short laugh to let you know he was at least _mostly_ joking.

“Well for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re all that bad”, you scooted an inch or two closer and twirled a loose strand of his hair around your finger, then mustered up some courage and pressed a feather light kiss to his temple. “Thanks for the tent”, you stood up quickly and walked away, proud of yourself for being bold.

That was all well and good though, Arthur thought. Just meant you weren’t around to see him blush.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Before you start, two things if you please:
> 
> 1) I'm super sick rn, so sorry this is a little late!
> 
> 2)This chapter is hella long bc there's a lot about to go down. And by that I mean, you know all those warning tags that haven't been relevant yet? Yeah. This is The Chapter(tm), and very much so contains Major Character Death as well as Graphic Violence. Just fyi.
> 
> Thanks again! And without further ado, hold on to your butts...

_It’s been right around a week since we took up this whole “guns for hire” thing Dutch is making us do. Still waiting to hear back from the girl’s daddy, but we’ve been out trying to find that Redfield bastard about since she shipped off the letter._

_So far, no luck._

_Looks like he skipped town, but I got a feelin’ he ain’t left the state yet. For his sake, I almost hope he has made himself scarce. Once word got out that we were in for the payday of a lifetime, Dutch has the whole gang whipped up into a pack of bloodhounds._

_Then again, I guess I ain’t any different._

~~~

The gang searched all over for any trace of the Sheriff’s son. Folks over in valentine didn’t seem to have much of a clue, but there was talk of frequent smoke from the South West, in the direction of Strawberry. Rumors on their own weren’t too promising, but at the moment it was a better lead then nothing.

Word of the tip off made it back to Dutch, who was ecstatic over the development. “Charles, Javier, get over he-!”

“Wait, let me go too!”, you turned and pleaded with Dutch, “If nothing else, I want to watch that bastard _squirm._ ”

“Ah, I don’t know about that miss. This is a dangerous business, and besides, these are good men. They’ll handle it.”

“Well hold on, am I paying you or not?”, you countered defiantly.

Dutch seemed to freeze up, mulling over his options. On the one hand, you were indeed funding this endeavor, but if the mission fell through because of your scouting incompetence, so too might the gang’s pay day.

“Ugh, enough already... _I’ll_ go”, Arthur strutted up to the little meeting, and then turned to you. “You stay here, _safe,_ and I promise to bring back all the gory details, alright?”

Your brow creased and you bit your tongue, now wishing you hadn’t said anything. That wasn’t to say that you didn’t appreciate Arthur’s willingness to go be your eyes and ears, but the two of you had been growing more and more close over the past few weeks and the thought of your big, sweet cowboy in danger became more and more unbearable a thought to you.

Ever since the tent incident, you had dropped the proverbial handkerchief, expressing your obvious interest in Arthur and opening the door for him to do the same. So far it seemed he was testing the waters of flirtation, awkwardly trying to get back into the game by building up your favor with little things. 

Though he ate more and more often than you did, Arthur had taken note of when you liked to eat and would bring you a bowl of stew, as well as one for himself, so he could join you for a meal. Then one day you found a red wild flower accompanied by a simple, but flattering sketch of your pretty face wedged in the pages of the book you were currently reading. Another time, you caught big, bad Arthur Morgan helping little Jack make a new braided flower necklace for his mother. The next day, you found a similar, but more clumsily woven flower chain resting on the pillow of your bed roll.

“Well… Alright, I suppose”, you conceded. “Be careful?”

“Ah, we’ll keep an eye on him!”, Javier clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Now, _vámonos!_ ” Charles and Javier ran over to their horses, eager to set off. Charles called to Arthur again, urging him hurry. The big cowboy looked at the now mounted men, then back at you as he flicked a hand to gesture a farewell before turning heel to catch up and set out.

You waved at the man’s back as he left and waited until he was gone before pulling a crushed red wild flower from your dress. Stroking the soft petals fondly, you smiled and wandered back to your tent.

\---

“So, how’s you little señorita, Arthur? You’re really sweet on her, huh?”

“Yeah, don’t tell me your getting all soft on us now”, Charles smiled in his reserved way.

“I think you meant, soft- _er!_ ”, Javier cackled over the thundering hooves of the horses.

“Will you _please_ shut your stupid ass up? And anyways, not that it’s any business of you two, but it ain’t like that between us.”

“Arthur…”, Charles interjected. “Do you really think nobody has noticed you sneaking all her those little things?”

“He’s got a point compadre, besides you’re pretty hard to miss!”

Arthur was about to snap back at the other two, when he saw a plume of white smoke in the distance. “Wait, look there!”, he directed their attention to the distance and led the charge. 

The group of men slowed up when they came to the edge of the forest and looked across the empty field. Charles produced his set of binoculars and scanned the area.

“Anything?”

“Looks abandoned, but might have belonged to our man. Should we check it out?”

Arthur nodded, “Let’s go.”

It was a short ride down to the camp, and the men began investigating in earnest. Javier stood watch around the perimeter, while Charles and Arthur looked for tracks or useful information. Arthur rummaged through several containers and tents littered throughout the camp, while Charles searched the ground. It didn’t take an expert tracker to figure it out, but the previous occupants of this camp seemed like a small posse. There was space enough for about 10 men, plus food and dung enough for about that many horses. 

“How’s it going back there?”, Javier shouted over his shoulder. “Coast’s clear out here amigos.” He wandered into the heart of the camp, looking for his gang mates.

“Come look at these boot prints”, Charles called and Javier came right over. “Look over at yours, now look at these. See how much more sunken they are?”

Arthur wandered over to the other two, “mph- _So?_ ” His thumb was hooked into his belt as he lazily chewed on a biscuit from a stash he’d found.

“ _And_ ”, Charles stood up and swatted the remainder of the snack out of Arthur’s hand, “If this Redfield guy matches up to the description I was given, then they could be his. The weight distribution looks right.”

Arthur looked down at the now filthy biscuit and then back to the tracker, “Now did ya _have_ to do that?”

Javier snorted, trying to hide his laughter while Charles squinted, trying to hide his agitation. “Grow up”, Charles turned heel, leading the other two as he followed the tracks, which joined up with seemingly the entire rest of the camp, then turned to hoof prints which all took off in the same direction. 

“We gotta hurry”, he whistled for the horses. The trio mounted up, sticking close while Charles followed the trail. The tracks seemed a little aimless at first, but then turned towards an all too familiar route. Off in the distance, the sharp, distinctive _Krak-ow_ of a gunshot went off followed soon after by several more. The three men snapped their attention in the direction of the sound, trying to figure out the origin. 

_Horseshoe Ridge._

“Dios mio...”

Without another word, the three outlaws took to their spurs, pushing their horses as fast as they could go. The horses huffed and screamed, growing more and more upset as they were raced towards the chorus of gunshots. Finally, they reached the edge of the woods, desperate to reach their home base as the sound of a shootout had died out minutes ago.

Arthur spurred his horse and snapped his reins again, urging the poor beast to take up a pace it couldn’t reach. His beat up black hat flew off his head as he took out his pistol, drawing it as the stallion leaped into the clearing, his scouting party just seconds behind. The big cowboy leveled the revolver, prepared for a fight. But was met with a bone chilling scene.

“No…”, Arthur jumped of his horse, and stared blankly at what was left of the camp. Tents laid in ruin, some trampled and others burning. The wagons were shot full of holes, with one or two bleeding corpses slumped against them. He didn’t want to look, but he had no choice. Sean, Lenny, Micah, _good men,_ laid motionless and bloodied in the red soaked mud, bodies left to rot in the sun and mingled with those of a few strangers and some unfortunate animals.

“ _Arthur!_ ”, Charles ran up next to him, looking himself like he’d seen a ghost, “Come on, we need to look for survivors.” He motioned for Javier to do the same. The Mexican obeyed, but looked to be in no better shape then the other two.

Arthur plodded onward, forcing himself to investigate the carnage. He passed the hitching post and nearly stepped on a body in his daze. It was Kieran, trampled to death with a gun in his hand. A few feet behind him, lay a dead horse, shot to death. Arthur shook his head and walked on. All that hazing, and the boy had died still trying to prove himself a Van Der Linde.

Charles called out to any survivors, and Arthur did the same.

He saw his wagon in the distance, and suddenly he snapped out of his daze as his thoughts focused on you. Arthur sprinted through the wasteland, stopping dead at what he saw. Two bodies, a man and a woman. On top, Hosea, a rifle laying beside him and a smattering of bullet holes in his body. Beneath him… _you._

He ran again, and fell to his knees. Arthur Morgan lifted the only father he had ever known into his arms. He shook the old man gently as if it were at all possible that he might just be unconscious. The cowboys eyes stung with a sensation he wasn’t familiar with. A single, bitter tear ran down his cheek as he embraced the cold reality. He wasn’t coming back. _Hosea was gone._

Arthur closed Hosea’s eyes, and laid him aside and took a moment to weep. He hadn’t even gotten to you yet. He bit his lip, and wiped his eyes, trying to compose himself. Your hair glistened with the blood of the man who had died defending you in Arthur’s stead. The big man ran a hand through your hair, a fresh wave of tears streaming forth. His fingers trailed down to your shoulders when, just barely, he felt you shudder. 

Without even a second thought, Arthur grabbed you by the arms and flipped you over. You screamed bloody murder, sobbing and begging for mercy, you struggled, not daring to open your eyes. The breath in your throat hitched before you could get a second wind, as Arthur clutched you to his broad chest, holding you there in a crushing bear hug. You gasped for air, and began to calm down, recognizing his embrace almost immediately.

Charles and Javier came running at the sound of your screams, and Arthur held you at arms length. He turned his gaze to Hosea’s body, his friend and father figure for most of his life, and then to you, a woman he’d known for hardly a month. Hosea had laid down his life for you, in an attack that would never have happened if he just hadn’t met you. Arthur’s anger swelled suddenly like high tide, eager to lay all the blame on your shoulders, but the wave crashed and dispersed on the shores of his reasoning in a passing thought.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t met you, true enough, but they hadn’t come here for you. Ollie had come for _him._ If he had really wanted you, why would he have left you here with the assumption that you’d been successfully shot? Furthermore, if their sole intention was to kill you, then why leave so quickly? Why not stay to loot and revel in their heinous victory? No, they had to be looking for someone else… 

“Arthur?”, you called again, reaching up and holding a palm to his face. Arthur relaxed the scowl he hadn’t realized he was maintaining, and softened his expression.

Javier removed his hat and knelt beside, Hosea. He placed some coins on the man's eyes, and recited a Spanish phrase. 

“Where are the others?”, Charles knelt down, addressing you.

You choked on a sob, struggling to make yourself coherent. Arthur pulled you back in, promising that things would be alright. You gasped, and managed to spit out something useful, “S- _scattered._ Everyone scattered…”

“Did you see where Dutch went?”, Charles pushed, becoming desperate, “ _Well?_ ”

“ _Easy,_ Charles”, Arthur spoke up, gently rocking with you to the point that you almost didn’t notice the gesture.

You sniffed and then nodded, pointing to the north, “He and some others went that way.”

“Hello?”, a gruff voice called out. Charles and Javier spun in the direction of the sound, drawing their weapons. “ _Woah!_ ”, Mr. Pearson and Ms. Grimshaw came out of the brush, leading a small group of survivors. All weapons were lowered, and the two groups merged as they each took turns filling the other in. Then came the big question… _What next?_

Charles argued that they should set out to find Dutch immediately and regroup, before the trail went cold. Ms. Grimshaw countered that they couldn't just leave their fallen friends for the vultures, to which Javier agreed. The mass divided themselves into two new factions as they quibbled over what to do. Arthur stood up, pulling you with him, and whistled through the noise for his horse.

“Where are _you_ going?”, Charles asked accusingly.

Arthur took his rifle from his saddle and slung it around his shoulders, “To hunt down the sons of _bitches_ responsible.”

“Arthur, let it go! This isn’t about money anymore, this is about family…”, Javier broke in.

The cowboy took a few menacing steps in Javier’s direction, “To hell with the bounty, I’m doing this _because_ of family!”, Arthur snarled, then turned away in disgust. Sadly, he glanced to where Hosea lay. Ms. Grimshaw laid a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Go, we’ll do right by him”, she shared Arthur’s forlorn glance, “Give him a proper final rest.”

Arthur nodded his thanks, then jumped up into the saddle before anyone else tried to argue. He turned the animal in place, then leaned down to offer you a hand. You hesitated, still in shock, but Arthur’s voice pulled you out of your daze, “Well come on… We started this mess together, and I’ll be damned if we don’t end it that way.”

You nodded, inspirited just enough to be so foolish as to accept his hand. “Where?”, Arthur asked. You pointed east, opposite the setting sun, with one hand and clutched the cowboy’s shirt for dear life with the other, “Saint Denis. He thinks it’s over, so he’ll try and leave now.” 

Arthur gave a single, grim nod and snapped the reins. The race towards Saint Denis was on.

\---

You sobbed quietly against Arthur’s back, reaching subconsciously for his waist, looking for the comfort of hug. He flinched, and you drew your hand back, realizing what you were doing. You held onto his suspenders and, despite all the death and horror you’d just gone through, smiled to yourself. Not too long ago, you’d learned that big, grizzly Arthur Morgan had ticklish ribs. You’d discovered it by accident the very first day you’d ridden with him, but now that you knew for sure? You were an absolute terror, taking advantage of his weakness usually when you two were alone and he least expected it, just for the hell of it.

You’d never forget the time you got him while he was fishing. You snuck up quiet as a cat and dug your nails into his rib cage like spurs to a horse. “ _Jesus!_ ”, he shrieked, beyond startled. It was hilarious… until he jumped from the surprise, slipped on the wet rocks, and fell right on top of you. When you got back, Dutch asked what the hell wa-

As quickly as it had been conjured, the happy memory was washed away with the current reality. You’d received a few cuts and bruises from getting ground into the rocks that day, and various members of the gang had helped you clean up and others came to check on you. Ms. Grimshaw, Mary-Beth, Kieran, Hosea… You sniffed and fell back into bitter sobs.

“Don’t worry girly, we’re gonna kill that _bastard._ I promise...”, Arthur interrupted your painful memories, trying his best to comfort you as he drove. You nodded your head against his tense back, letting him know you’d heard him. _He was right._ Ollie _deserved_ this. You had no idea how a person could do something like that back there, How do you round up a posse and go on a murderous rampage over _spite?_ Just when you thought monsters weren’t real.

The bustling street and extensive rail tracks of Saint Denis loomed in the distance as Arthur’s horse raced to meet it. You galloped through the streets, keeping an eye out but finding nothing of interest until… The horse turned the corner to the main railroad platform where you and Arthur had stood just a few weeks ago, but this time in your place was Ollie and his gang.

Redfield seemed about to start splitting shares of cash between the men. Then he caught sight of you and Arthur, “There’s the bastard! An-and... “, he turned to his men, snatching money out of one of the thugs hands, “I thought you said that _bitch_ was dead!”

The thugs seemed to struggle to come up with excuses, while a more grizzled one of the bunch unholstered his pistol, “That can be _fixed..._ ” The man was quick and got off a shot that barely missed, but Arthur was faster, fanning the hammer of his own revolver, causing the men to scatter. You jumped off the horse, looking for cover. Arthur followed suit, just in time for his horse to bolt away to safety.

The civilians of Saint Denis ran in all directions, screaming. Arthur put away his pistol and unslung his repeater, expertly popping out to get off some shots, then dodging back under cover while Ollie’s gang fired a steady stream of shots.

“Give me a gun!”, you shouted to Arthur over the whizzing bullets.

“No! Stay down there!”, Arthur squeezed off some more shots which was followed up by the all to familiar sound of a man’s body hitting the ground. The cowboy ducked back down, smiling, “ _Got one!_ ”

The fight when on like that for a while, every time Arthur jumped out of cover, your heart clenched as you cowered, helpless in your place. So far, your big cowboy had managed to go almost completely unscathed, his shoulder was burned from the grazing of a bullet, but otherwise he was prospering as the thugs fell one by one. Arthur slumped down against your dilapidated cover, breathing hard and sweating badly from the hard work of ending other men’s lives. “You still want”, he gasped, “ _-that gun?_ ” Arthur cracked another smile, followed by a lull in the gunfire.

The distinctive noise of a pistol hammer’s click seemed to echo in you ear. “Somethin’ _funny?_ ” Ollie Redfield stood, gun aimed and loaded right in Arthur’s face. He straddled the space between you and the cowboy. Arthur swore, and you squeaked out a pathetic little sound. “Don’t worry _dearest,_ I’ll deal with you in a moment…” And with that, all the anger you’d been suppressing uncorked itself. This shoot out, the camp, Valentine, even that very sentence, converged in your mind to remind you how pissed off by it all you were.

“ _No!_ ”, you shrieked, as Ollie’s finger moved to pull the trigger on Arthur. You couldn’t let Arthur go out like this. Not for you. You jumped up with all the strength your body could muster, shoving Ollie’s hand skyward, just barely saving Arthur from the shot as you exposed yourself from behind cover.

“What are you _doin’?_ Get down, damnit!”, Arthur fired some rifle shots into Ollie’s torso, and tried to pull you down. But it was too late.

One of the gunmen, a little too on edge from the shoot out, pulled the trigger as soon as a target made itself available. A few cracks rang out in the town, and the whole world seemed to stop.

You gasped, slumping to the ground, as a deep red stain painted its way across your chest. Arthur went completely numb, as he watched your body fall to the ground in slow motion.

This was a nightmare. It _had_ to be. Yeah, just a bad dream... 

Any second now he’d wake up to your contagious laughter as you teased him for sleeping late and shook him awake. Any second and his eyes will snap open and all the screaming and gunfire will melt away to the sound of your beautiful, soft singing while you stroke his hair. Any second, and he’ll jolt awake laying beside you in your tent and stop himself before he rolls onto you again, turn on his back, and hold you close enough to keep _your_ bad dreams away, while the scent of your hair and peaceful snoozing comforts him from the one he’s about to wake up from.

_Any second now…_

Arthur blinked once. Then twice. But the scene refused to change. His mouth twitched and a lone tear escaped down his cheek, but he was hard pressed to care. _Not again._ It was over. Everything he’d loved in life was _gone._ Mowed down before his eyes as a direct result of the very same life he’d so happily led.

“Now shoot _the other one,_ you damn worthless bastards!”

Before anyone could get a shot off, Arthur roared and leveled his rifle, coming back to reality. With almost unnatural speed and precision, the broken man took out the remaining few men with dead accuracy. Not a bullet wasted.

He haphazardly slung his rifle around his frame as the local lawmen rode onto the scene. They shouted various things, mostly trying to calm the frenzied bystanders, but he wasn’t listening. His only focus was you. Arthur crawled down beside you. “No, no, no…”, his voice broke and more tears came as he picked you up like child would a beloved, but now broken toy, holding you tenderly.

“Ah...I’m, _s-sorry…_ ”, you rasped.

Arthur froze immediately and instinctively shifted to survival mode. _You were alive._ Without even saying a word, he scooped you up and tore off down the streets, doing his best to escape the distracted law officers. 

You groaned in agony, body going limp as the shock and pain took you. Arthur nudged your check, breathing like a workhorse, “Come on girl… _Not like this._ ”, he gasped for air, lungs on fire, “ _Stay awake, now… Stay with me!_ ”

Your eyelids fluttered, fighting to stay open. 

Arthur rounded one more corner, and then finally turned to face the Doctor’s. Without slowing, he got low and slammed his shoulder into the door, nearly taking it off the hinges as it flew open and shuttered.

“What the _hell?_ ”, a small, bookish looking man slunk out of the side office. Arthur didn’t need to say a word, as the Doctor immediately changed his tune and urged the much larger man to follow him to the examination room. “Set her down here please. Good. Now, what happened?”

“I… Huh, she got-”

“Never mind, never mind. I’ll just look here… _My God,_ ”, the Doctor examined the bullet holes and then remarked, “This is pretty serious, but… I might be able to save her. Hm, her clavicle is most definitely broken though, possibly a rib as well”, he turned to Arthur amid his medical jargon. “You’ll probably want to leave, I’ll have to operate.”

“I ain’t goin’… _nowhere_ ”, Arthur managed to huff out, as he took your hand.

“Sir, we have the most modern of medicines and antiseptics… I _assure you,_ your wife will be just fine.”

Arthur pulled up the chair just an inch or so behind him and seated himself stubbornly, “I _said,_ I ain’t _goin’._ ”

“ _Fine,_ but I warned you. Just please _don’t_ interfere”, the Doctor rummaged through a series of drawers and returned with a full syringe. He pulled on some gloves, and injected your arm. You flinched weakly, and the Doctor rubbed a ball of cotton over the area, “There, good girl, this will help you”, the Doctor sighed, turned to his table and pulled out a sharp, sleek little blade, “Now for the hard part.”

The little man turned to Arthur, “If you _must_ be here, could you do something useful?” Arthur nodded, and stood up, still holding your hand. “Will you hold her down please? _Just in case._ We don’t want to make anything worse by having her hurt herself.”

Arthur grimaced, but complied. He leaned his free arm down on your abdomen, released your hand from his, and then used it to pin your healthy shoulder. The Doctor prepared himself to go in, but paused for a moment, “Ah I should probably let you know, there’s a lot of nerves and such around here, so don’t be put off if she starts screaming. Remember, it’s _vital_ she stays as still as possible.” 

Arthur closed his eyes and touched his forehead to yours, your cool shallow breath caressing his face, “ _I’m sorry_ ”, he whispered.

“Ready?”

Arthur pulled his head away, and nodded, “Do it.”

The Doctor’s scalpel plunged into your skin with quick, precise movements as he cut open a small strip so as to get to the bone and bullets. It took just a second for your body to register what was being done to it, and when it did, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced in your life. The pain was searing, like holding onto hot, cast iron except you were unable to let go. You shrieked at the top of your lungs, as your body convulsed pathetically from both pain and blood loss. You twisted and jerked around, your free hand clawed at Arthur’s flesh as your knee slammed into his barrel chest, desperate to free yourself from the torture.

The big man turned away. He’d seen a lot of horrific things in his life, but somehow watching you scream and contort in all this agony was unbearable.

“There now, your both doing well. Keep holding her”, the Doctor had put down the scalpel and picked up a pair of long, steel tweezers. “Almost done…”

You’d managed to settle down, going somewhat limp, now that the worst of it was over and especially as exhaustion and the injection started to kick in. The Doctor dug deep into your muscle to retrieve the bullet shells, but your were too far gone to do much more then turn your head away, moaning and wailing. Arthur turned to look back at you, doing his best to ignore the huge, bloody mess that was your shoulder. 

“Now to set this…”, the Doctor had fished out the fractured off piece of your clavicle and began taking steps to reattach the bone with some sort of resin.

Arthur planted a gentle kiss to your temple, and held his lips there for a little while as your excruciating sobs became a little less tortured. “ _There’s my girl…_ ”, he whispered, pleading, “Don’t leave me here. _Not you too…_ ” He kissed your cheek as you gasped softly before falling asleep as the medicine took you completely.

“Is she sleeping?”, the Doctor asked, not taking his eyes off his work.

“She _better_ be…”, Arthur said through gritted teeth, pulling himself off of you.

The Doctor gulped, “G-good… Good”, he didn’t dare to look up. “There, we’re just about done”, he put down everything he was holding and picked up a surgical needle and thread. He pulled together the little flaps of skin he’d cut out and began sowing you up with expert skill.

Arthur rubbed his forehead and sat down heavily. As the Doctor worked, he refocused on you and brushed a stray hair out of your face, lost in the eery serenity of your expression.

“...And, _done._ ”, the Doctor snipped the thread and tied it off. He removed his gloves, and wiped his brow. “Well, I do believe she’ll make it. I’m sorry she got caught up in all that out there, but you’ve got yourself one hell of a woman here, Mr….?”

“Morgan, _Arthur_ Morgan.”

The Doctor pulled out a notepad and began jotting some things down, “Alright… Well if you like, we can keep Mrs. Morgan here in the ward for a day or two, or if you really must you ca-”

“She’s not my wife”, Arthur said the statement with a hollow voice, looking at you with glazed eyes.

The Doctor crossed something out. “Oh, I see. Please forgive me then. Do you have contact with her family? There’s still the issue of my payment…”

Arthur shook his head, not taking his eyes off you. The Doctor started to say something, but the cowboy cut him off, “I’ll pay it.”

The Doctor stared tensely for a moment, not sure if the other man was serious. “Are you certain? We could ju-”

“ _How. Much._ ”

The Doctor told him, half expecting the big man to lose his cool, but was pleasantly surprised to see him produce the agreed upon sum from his satchel. The Doctor didn’t bother asking how such a gruff, half literate man was in possession of so much money in the first place, but decided not to push his luck, remembering quite well what the brute had done to his front door.

Once the Doctor was paid, Arthur carried you out bridal style, trying his best to be careful with your stitched up shoulder. He whistled for his horse and had it follow him down some back streets, with the interest of escaping without running into the law. Your head lolled against Arthur’s comfortable chest as you moaned, slowly but surely coming to. 

Arthur sighed his relief, and climbed into his saddle with one hand and you in the other. It took a few tries, but he was finally successful. The cowboy say you in his lap and leaned you against his body so you could rest. He clicked to his horse, and under the cover of night the two of you slipped out of the city safely, _together._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm back! Sorry this took actually forever, but I didn't forget about you all!
> 
> Before you get started, I just want to thank everyone who's been reading this story so far and especially to everyone who left such nice comments. I honestly wasn't sure this fic was going to be too well received or just straight up something no one would be interested in and wasn't going to post, but I'm glad to have been proven wrong!
> 
> Anyway, thanks again and I hope this chapter brings things to a satisfying close for you all <3

_It’s been a hell of a ride these past few days._

_I don’t even know what to write, it’s just- Damn. Everything is gone. Every-one- is gone. Dutch, Hosea, the whole damn gang. The only one who -is- left is, well, -her-..._

_If the Reverend was around, I’m sure he’d tell me some BS about this all bein’ some kinda sign. Whatever that means. But I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’ lately, and maybe… Maybe this all -does- mean something._

_Hell, I might even be ready for it._  
~~~

You and Arthur rode across the countryside all through the night. The cowboy held you close, fighting to stay awake, as you slept uneasily in his arms. Thankfully, his horse was capable of doing most of the driving. It didn't matter where they went really, as long as they stayed out of Saint Denis and as long as Ollie Redfield stayed a body on the ground.

Had Arthur been more awake, he might’ve kept his mount from going to the only other place he would’ve liked to avoid.

Dawn broke on the horizon, blinding the big cowboy as he snapped out of his exhausted stupor. Arthur looked around, trying to get his bearings. _No…_ The horse had returned to the only home it had ever known. The scarred face of Horseshoe Ridge came into focus through the rough brush of the thin forest protecting it. Arthur considered reining the beast in a different direction, not yet ready to face the lingering ghost of the place so soon, but denied himself the request.

His stomach growled and his head nodded again. He was tired of fighting, it was time for a rest. 

At the very least he could gather up his things and then go… Well, that was a question for later. You nuzzled against his soft chest, moaning horsley after yesterday's torment. Arthur sighed and rested his chin on your head, smiling contentedly. Out of all the several things and people he’s lost in the last 24 hours alone, he’d at least managed to save one of the things he’d come to hold most dear.

The horse instinctively came to a stop next to what was left of the hitching post, waiting for its riders to dismount. Arthur carried you easily in one arm, then used the other to swing down. His boots hit the ground with a thud and then a shuffle as he stumbled slightly from exhaustion. Arthur shook his head out, hoping it would be enough to force him just a little further on. You were repositioned to a bridal style carry in the big man’s arms as he plodded onward through the wreckage.

Looking around, the bodies were now gone alongside one or two of the wagons. Arthur had merely assumed everyone went off to chase Dutch, until he rounded a ruined tent to witness a dying campfire, a lone man, and a horse.

“Charles? What er’ you doin’ here?”

“The others went to go find Dutch.”

Arthur set you down on the warm ground, before joining Charles at a slight distance, “I didn’t ask about them, I asked about _you._ Why didn’t you go with them?”

Charles stared into the embers for a moment, as if contemplating the answer himself. “It’s not worth it Arthur.”

“What do yo-”

The other man whipped around to face his companion, suddenly agitated, “ _Look around you!_ First I hear about trouble on that steamboat way back, then Blackwater, now _this._ ” Charles turned back to the ashes, taking a deep breath to center himself again, “At first I just figured the boat was bad luck and Blackwater was a coincidence, but… _we lost half the camp._ There’s a bad omen on this gang Arthur, I can feel it.”

“What, you mean like a curse?”

“Something like that. Besides, you’ve said as much yourself, us outlaws are a disease in a world that’s finally ready for a cure. The Van Der Linde gang is on its last legs as it is… This was all such a mistake.”

“Come on now, yeah things look bad, but we can bounce back! We just gotta catch up with the others, find Dutch an-”

“Arthur, _I need to get away._ I’m out.”, Charles nodded to your sleeping form, “And you should consider doing the same.” Arthur stuttered, lost for words or maybe just unsure of what he wanted to say. “ _Listen to me._ She loves you, no matter what you say, and more then that, she has money, a powerful family, a business, and it’s all out west. Isn’t that what you wanted? Take her home, and go be happy Arthur. There’s nothing for the likes of us out here…” 

“Mmh… Arthur?”, you began to stir, but went still again soon enough. Arthur twisted to look at you, and then looked back at his friend. Charles stood up, dusted off his trousers and walked over to his horse. He mounted up as Arthur watched on silently. _He was serious, wasn’t he?_

Charles reined his horse around, “Take care Arthur. Think about what I said.” And with that, he snapped his reins and disappeared like a ghost into the brush. The cowboy stared into the coal and ash of the now dead fire and wiped a paw across his forehead. _Was any of that even real?_ Arthur staggered to his feet, picked you up, and made one final journey to his wagon. Everything was still there, his guns, his clothes, his pictures… and there, hanging on a nail, hung his battered black hat. Someone had gone through the trouble of finding it for him in the aftermath of yesterday’s catastrophe. 

Arthur smiled sadly, placed you on his bed, then placed his hat in its rightful place on his head. He rooted around the wreck of a camp for any food that may have been left behind, and came back with a can of fruit. He sat on the edge of his bed, careful not to disturb you too much, and gulped down the can. It was hardly enough considering how long he’d been awake without food, but it would do for now. Now, he just needed some rest.

You laid on Arthur's bed, sleeping restlessly. Arthur looked to you, then to the dirty cowhide rug beneath his boots, and back to you again. Surely you wouldn’t mind… The big cowboy picked you up as delicately as his powerful arms could manage and held you against his body before laying himself down on the bed, with you carefully draped over his torso. You sighed deeply and seemed to relax into his warm, soft body, clearly deeming it far superior than the tired old mattress. Arthur grunted and turned his head in response, even after all this time, still a little embarrassed to be regarded as “cuddly”, but after all you’d survived through, he supposed this time he was glad for it.

With that in mind, he laced his hand around your waist to secure you flat against him, and joined you in peaceful sleep.

\---

By the time you awoke next, the sky was a dark haze. Whether it was dusk or dawn, you weren’t sure. You tried to push yourself up off of whatever you were laying on, when a sharp pain stabbed through your shoulder. Hissing in pain, you fell back onto the warm surface with a soft thump. Beneath you, the surface jolted and made snorting sound, “ _Huh?_ ”

You were startled at first, and yet too tired to scream or really take any action at all, but were soon soothed by a gruff, familiar voice, “You awake princess?”

“Arthur… What ha-?”

“Shh, yer alright now”, Arthur held you gently, whispering comfort into your ear. He gave you a very brief rundown of what happened, how Ollie was dead, you got shot but were patched up now, and that the two of you were safe at camp. He pushed himself up, easing you with him, while you held your bad shoulder, gritting your teeth.

“Are ya hurtin’?”

“... _Yes_ ”

Arthur slid you off his lap, propping you against the side of the wagon, and told you to hold on a minute. He reached down to rummage through what was left of his belongings and came up with some alcohol, offering you a swig. “Here, for the pain.” He held the rim to your lips, and helped you get a few sips, taking it away once you’d had enough.

“How long…?”

Arthur squinted into the mottled sky, as if trying to derive the very same answer for himself, “Well, that there’s the east, and it looks kinda brighter over there to me, so I guess that would mean we both slept all day and all night yesterday…”

The news hit you like a slap, “ _Over a day?_ ”

Arthur held up his hands in a calming gesture, “Woah now girl, I don’t think you realize what a time you’ve had. Lemme tell ya right now, that surgery back in Saint Denis weren't no joke.” You traced your fingers over the rough stitches, afraid to see the damage for yourself. The two of you sat in silence for a long moment, watching the sun peak over the distance until Arthur interrupted, “You know, I bet you’re starving. Wait here.”

When he returned, the big man came bearing a small armful of canned food. “Well, whaddya know? Jackpot!”, he dumped the preserves on the ground with a clatter before sitting beside you again. He asked if you had a preference, to which you responded that you didn’t much care. The cowboy picked up some fruit preserves, opened it up and offered it to you. You accepted and held it in your lap for a moment. Arthur was well on his way to dig into his own can of food when he noticed you weren’t eating, “Do you uh, need some help?”

“I’m fine”, you peeled back the lid and lifted the can to your lips, taking a sample. The big man fired back a whole can of something, then wiped his mouth as though he’d just consumed a beer. He sighed with satisfaction while you took another sip.

“Ya know, funny thing. Would you believe that nearly every damn time I ask a woman what’s the matter with her, and she answers ‘I’m fine’, it turns out she is indeed _not_ ‘fine’?” Arthur picked up another can and began opening it, “So, you wanna tell me what’s _really_ botherin’ ya?”

You drained your fruit can and dropped it on the ground beside you while Arthur chugged some more vitals, ready to listen. “What are we going to do?”, you barely whispered, on the verge of tears. “Everyone is gone, and Ollie’s gone sure, but home is just so… _far._ ” You covered your mouth with your good hand, breaking down. “H-how am I supposed to get _back?_ ”

Arthur dropped the now empty can alongside the first one, then turned to you, “Well… I don’t know about _you_ gettin’ back, but…” He reached across with a callused paw and wiped away a tear from you soft cheek, “What about _us?_ ” The sun had finally climbed over the hillside, illuminating everything with a gentle golden glow.

You held onto his hand, and looked into his eyes with confusion, “But, w-wha about the gang? Dutch is still out there an-”

Arthur shushed you and brought over his other hand to enclose your one with his two, “A good friend of mine gave me some advice recently, and… Well, it helped me realise something.” You cocked your head a little, now even more confused. 

“And that would be?”

Arthur scooted closer to you, smoothly closing the distance as he spoke, “ _That_... Being an outlaw and a bad man may be all I know, but it don’t have to be…”, and with that, he kissed you. Not rough and hungrily like he may have wanted, but softly and with the innocence of a young man to his sweetheart. And in a way that only this grizzly bear of a man could pull of, despite the grime covering his clothes and skin, despite the prickly stubble that tickled your chin, despite the surprising gentleness of the kiss, _somehow_ it was almost better that way.

When he pulled away, it was as though you were looking at a new man. The tired, world weary old man you had known was replaced by this big, excited kid, full of life, as he made you a thousand promises. “Come on now, I’ve still got some money, and we can sell most of this stuff… We’ll buy some cart horses, I know a guy down by Emerald Ranch and we’ll sell these ol’ carts to him, and when that’s all done we’ll pack up this one and set off west!”, he tapped a knuckle against his cart, smiling a genuine, infectious smile that caused your own lips to curl too. _This could really work._

You broke into a toothy smile, and laughed as a different type of tear ran down your cheek. Arthur laughed quietly with you, resting his forehead against yours. You nodded in agreement with this wild scheme of his. With the way he was now, for the first time since you’d met him, really and truly _happy,_ you felt as if nothing was impossible, like he could invite you on a trip to the moon, and you’d readily accept.

Arthur pulled away with a spark in his eye. He removed his hat, and plopped it on your head, “Well what are we _waiting for!_ ” He leaned in to kiss you again, quickly and rougher this time, but not so much so as to aggravate your shoulder. Arthur jumped up and got to work, searching the scraps of the camp for anything the two of you could pawn off. After seeing you smile and laugh, _happy,_ like that… There was nothing he wanted more then to keep all those promises. 

And keep them, he did. It took nearly a whole week to accomplish all he’d set out to do, but _finally,_ today was the day.

You helped the big cowboy finish loading up his wagon, the pain in your shoulder reduced to a dull ache by now, before checking the horses harnesses one more time. Arthur tethered his trusty steed to the back, before coming around front to help you up into the driver’s bench. Soon enough, he joined you and picked up the reins. “Ready?”, he grinned.

You kissed his stubbly cheek, then smiled back, “ _Ready._ ”

\---

The road to Wyoming was long, but relatively danger free. Arthur Morgan was still a wanted man in some of the states you passed through, which meant a lot of the road was conquered at night, but you didn’t care. This, right here, was all you’d ever wanted. A strong, capable man at your side, a promising future waiting for you back home, and the stranglehold on your family’s lawful well being disposed of. What more could you have asked for?

Along the way, you’d stop at the occasional town to trade, the wilderness for Arthur to hunt, and once or twice at a Doctor’s to check on your stitches. Finally you were able to have them removed, but the rather large scar left behind had you feeling marred, not unlike like a scuffed doll.

“Aw, that’s nothin’. Here, see this?”, Arthur took your hand and ran it over his chin. At first you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be feeling for, until you noticed a smooth little strip amongst the bristly hair. Then a deep one along his knuckle, and a final one for good measure, running along his stomach that was jagged and looked like it had hurt quite badly upon acquisition. 

You looked on with morbid appreciation before shifting your focus and tracing a finger along some faded stripes near the bottom of his belly. “What about _these?_ ”, you teased.

“ _Woah there_ ”, Arthur yanked the hem of his shirt back down, while you stifled a mischievous snicker. “Let’s not talk about those…” He focused back on the road, pretending to not be embarrassed while you attach yourself to his arm, silently bargaining for forgiveness as you smiled up at him. Arthur rolled his eyes, still pretending to be annoyed, but cracked a tiny smile anyway, betraying his facade. 

You would always be a little self conscious of your own scars, but having Arthur there to reassure you was certainly a step in the right direction.

\---

The trip from the Louisiana bayou to the plains of Wyoming took you and Arthur just over a good three months of hard riding, but with one another for company and the constant supply of new towns to take a rest in, it was bearable. Besides, it could be worse, you would often remind the cowboy on his cranky days. At least it was just the two of you, rather than a whole wagon train, not to mention there were no mountains to pass through, unlike the ones the folks heading for places like California and Oregon had to deal with.

As the weeks dragged on, finally you were rewarded with the sight of your family estate on the horizon. Cattle grazed in pastures that spread for miles as farm hands on horseback dotted the rolling landscape surrounding the grand, family manor sitting proudly in the center of it all. Arthur snapped the reins as the horses went into a gallop, feeding into the excitement radiating from you. After the exodus the two of you had come from, the short ride from the road to a stable area to park the wagon seemed to take all of the blink of an eye.

Several guards and farm hands seemed to know you and were happy to see your return, though they regarded you companion with caution. No one seemed to mention or inquire about the whereabouts of Ollie however, which you found odd, but this was soon an afterthought when the promise of seeing your family within the hour was floated to you. You left the wagon in the capable hands of your father’s employees as you and Arthur were escorted by a pair of rough looking cowboys all the way to the family manor.

The escorts touched the brims of their hats once you and Arthur were safely delivered to the large front door of your childhood home. “Ready?”, you asked, hoping to offer some encouragement.

Arthur squeezed your hand and smiled back at you, “Ready.”

You tentatively pushed open the heavy, ornate door and called out as you pulled Arthur into the foyer. A maid hurried into the room to check on the intrusion, prepared to ward of any unwanted company, but gasped and covered her mouth upon seeing your face. She held up a hand, gesturing for you to wait just a moment, before rushing up the stairs and calling out to your father. There were a few moments of silence following the slamming of a door as the maid went to fetch her employer, which were soon filled with the booming shouts of a tough, older sounding man. The door slammed again as heavy boot falls all but stampeded towards the stairwell.

Arthur shuffled his footing, and ran a hand over his shirt and through his hair in an attempt to become more presentable. You held onto his arm, squeezing encouragingly as a stately looking man appeared, making his way down the staircase. He stopped once he’d reached the bottom and paused, soaking up the image of you like it was the cure to death itself.

“Is that my little darling girl?”, your father wiped at his eye, trying to keep his voice from breaking as he smiled with sheer joy after the months of separation. You covered your mouth, crying your own tears of joy as you nodded. Your father surged forward, and you ran to meet him halfway as he swept you up in a hug and spun in a gentle circle, holding you tightly. He set you down after one turn, and held you at arms length, as the two of you talked.

You explained everything, your fallout with Ollie in Valentine, how Arthur saved you, your arrangement with Dutch Van Der Linde and the letter you’d sent home, how it all went south in a series of shoot outs, how Arthur saved you again, and finally how the two of you devised a plan to come home and tell him the news. Without Ollie around, surely the family would be out of a deal with the lawman out here?

The rancher listened to your story intently, glancing over at Arthur on occasion, but remained silent as you explained. Once you were done, your father sighed, “Well I had hoped you’d received my letter, but I suppose not…”

“What letter?”, Arthur ventured, approaching you and your father.

“Since you and that good-’fer-nothing have been gone, I went and had a little word with the Sheriff”, your father smiled slyly, “Let’s just say he’s a little… _tied up_ lately, and there was no need.” The old rancher wheezed out a laugh that reminded you of Arthur’s as he gently elbowed you after his joke. You clapped a hand over your mouth both shocked and pleasantly surprised, while Arthur slowly joined your father’s laughter, just now catching the mans meaning.

“Now, now”, the rancher held out his hands as if calming a small crowd as he collected himself, “Now, who’s this my little wildflower?” He gestured to Arthur, who came forward on his own to introduce himself and shake the man’s hand. You jumped in with a very brief reminder that this was the very same Arthur Morgan who’d saved you multiple times and then offered to take you all the way back west.

Your father stroked his chin in thought, “Outlaw huh?” Arthur nodded. “I trust you’ve been filled in on our little, _operation_ out here?”, your father eyed you, but his voice offered no malice. Arthur nodded again, and then spoke.

“Actually, about that… I heard you could use some new blood in the uh, _family business_ ”, the big cowboy leaned in as if the last bit of the conversation was likely to be overheard by the law. Your father leaned in too, whispering excitedly. 

“You know anything ‘bout rustling boy?”

“A thing or two…”, Arthur smiled, as the two men pulled back to conversational distance. Your father smiled broadly then turned to you. He pinched your cheek gently,

“ _That’s my girl!_ I knew you had a good head on your shoulders, and look what you’ve brought me!”, the rancher turned back to Arthur, clapped an arm around his shoulder and began leading him off as he talked about taking the younger man on as well as finer details such as his wages and where he’d stay.

“Wait!”, you broke in, and your father stopped to turn around, “Daddy, we uh, well we were hoping to _stay_ together…It’s just with Ollie gone and all” You looked at Arthur and smiled, then back to your father. The old rancher looked from you to the cowboy blankly at first, until understanding crept onto his face. 

“Well… That calls for a whole different talk then”, your father clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder again, but rough and imposing this time, as he narrowed his eyes. “I _trust_ you plan on taking _real_ good care of her, especially if I let you stay here on _my_ estate?”

“Sir, you have my word.”

Your father chewed the wall of his mouth, suddenly reevaluating Arthur’s trustworthiness, “I sure hope so… Otherwise, I’ll see to it for you to go out and _swing by_ the old Sheriff, maybe the two of you can _hang out?_ Make no mistake, I nearly lost her to the scum of the earth, and I don’t aim to trust her to any more pieces of living _shit._ Clear?”

Arthur cleared his throat, then nodded respectfully, “Clear, Sir.” The rancher smiled smugly this time, happy to see he could still intimidate younger men.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?”, your father stepped aside and motioned down the hall towards an office before taking up talks of business again. 

Arthur followed, but paused for a moment and threw a look over his shoulder, watching you watch him go as all the memories you’d built together flashed before his eyes. From the moment he’d met you, a feeble, terrified little thing scrapped of the streets of Valentine and clinging to his chest for dear life. To the capable young woman with abilities somewhat above her station as you made short work of a wild animal with nothing more than a barely functioning revolver. Then finally, to the brave martyr that had saved him from from being shot dead in the street like a dog during Ollie’s ambush in Saint Denis.

The way he watched you die and realized too late that he loved you more than anything in the world. The way he held you down as you screamed in agony while the Doctor brought you back to life. The way you cried so gently against his wide frame back in the wreckage of camp, just a lost young lady who wanted nothing more then to put all the trauma behind her and go home. 

The way you lit up like a valley at dawn when he kissed you, and promised to bring you home. Settle down. Hell, get married even. _Start a life together._ But above all, he’d be a better man for you, the kind you deserved… 

\---

Just a few weeks later, all was going better then you could've hoped for. Arthur's bounty was cleared up by your father and the big cowboy was a welcome addition to your aging father's ring of rustlers. With Sheriff Redfield having mysteriously gone and his son along with him, the greenhorn they found to replace him was more then happy to leave your father's business alone. Once Arthur had made a good name for himself in the eyes of your father, along with his blessing, Arthur Morgan bent his knee and fulfilled one of his promises to you there on the green outside your family manor.

The ceremony was small, as Arthur had no family to invite to attend, but the new one he'd found in yours more then made up for it. The two of you exchanged vows by the lakeside, beneath the last pale light of the summer sun as the big man added new ones to his old list of promises. He still owed you a family of your own and a better man to help raise it, but to these he added a loyal, loving husband and a soul to spend all eternity with. 

It was a new beginning out there in the Midwest, and Arthur Morgan was a man of honor. He’d keep his promises to you.

All of them.


End file.
